Bright, Bright Colors
by Ariaprincess
Summary: "Who is the target exactly again?" Flavio fingered a small bottle he had been hiding in his pocket. "A man named Alfred F. Jones, 19 years old, rather idiotic, if I do say so myself." Rated T for gore, human names used, part of a series but also works as a stand-alone story.


**What have I done with my life. A special Christmas gift to A Broken Imagi-NATION, I hope she likes it~**

"I'm so glad you could make it tonight!"

Oliver smiled as the stylish italian approached him, sunglasses glinting off the faint street light.

"Me too, Flavi, I can't wait." The faint glint of a metal blade could be seen, just barely, in the dim reflection of the lamplight in the shop windows that lined the avenue on which they stood.

"Who is the target exactly again?" Flavio fingered a small bottle he had been hiding in his pocket. "A man named Alfred F. Jones, 19 years old, rather idiotic, if I do say so myself."

"Perfect." The two men strode carefully up the street, admiring the brightly frosted cakes and various toys and fashions inside the window displays.

"I love nights like this. Everything is so tranquil. Especially when it's just rained, the blood spills into the puddles and stains them _such_ a pretty red." Oliver sighed, tracing his fingers along one of the delicate patterns on the glass beside him.

"I know what you mean." Flavio chuckled softly, admiring his own reflection in the excess rainwater below him.

"What do you have on you at the moment?" "Um, I think a bottle of cyanide, some sleeping pills, and a knife." "I have a dagger and a few cupcakes. Chocolate. He won't be able to resist." Oliver adjusted the teddy bear backpack he wore with a grimace. "I hope they don't smear." "Why do you still wear that backpack? It's so childish." "I like it." The happy male giggled, earning a few disgusted looks from Flavio. "At least one of us has taste."

"We've arrived." They looked up at the house, surprised by how ordinary it seemed. "What did you expect?" "Well, admittedly, a red white and blue house with about fifty american flags hanging in the front." "A patriotic chap?" "I'll say." Flavio and Oliver ascended the steps, white boots and brown shoes tapping on the faded paint.

Oliver swung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it, extracting a pink bakery box. He set it down, rang the doorbell, and volleyed off the side of the porch. Flavio did the same, landing in a soft patch of dirt. They both landed on their feet, crouched and hunched over. They waited for the over-excitable american to open the door.

"Hello? Hello? Oh, sweet! Is this for me?" There were some shuffling sounds, and the door slammed shut. Oliver quietly pointed to the back gate with one gloved finger. They both entered slowly, clicking the lock shut behind them.

"Pick the basement door's lock. I'll be there in a minute." Flavio nodded and disappeared to the back of the house. Oliver examined the vines crawling up the side of the house. Fingering one of them, he saw that they would hold his weight. If he was careful. He latched on to the green tendrils and scaled the wall with as much skill as a spider. He crouched on the windowsill, looking into the kitchen. There, Alfred had just opened the box, letting out a cry of delight. Oliver watched as he took a bite of the prettiest treat, a chocolate cupcake frosted with blue and pink swirls and topped with a cherry. He chewed slowly, enjoying the taste. He was prepared to take another bite when he began to clutch his stomach, falling to his knees with a soft thud. His eyes slid shut and the cupcake fell out of his hand as his muscles relaxed. Satisfied, Oliver swung the window open and jumped inside, prodding the body with his toe.

Flavio emerged behind him, smirking at the sight of the limp body on the floor. "He still has frosting on his chin. Nothing more than a mere child." Oliver hefted the man with surprising strength, straining under the weight. "Give me a hand, would you? This 'mere child' eats too many burgers." "A true american, I see." Flavio took his legs and lifted them, grunting. "You're right." "When am I not?" The two men carried the limp figure down the steps and down the street. It was barren of pedestrians, thankfully, allowing them to carry out their work in private.

"Chain him to the backseat." Oliver said, sliding into the passenger seat of the sleek white car. Flavio wrapped heavy iron chains around Alfred's legs, locking them around the back of the seat itself. He then slid into the front seat and started the car. They drove away, leaving no evidence that they had ever been there.

"Ugh, he even smells of the wretched things." Flavio grimaced, wrinkling his nose. Oliver tutted disapprovingly. "We can't all smell like designer cologne." "I don't want him stinking up my beautiful car, thank you very much." And his foot pressed down on the gas pedal just a little bit harder. Oliver glanced back every once in a while to check on their guest. _Don't be ridiculous._ He thought to himself. _I used enough sleeping pills in that thing to knock out a horse._

Flavio pulled up in front of Oliver's house, a pink two-story victorian with white trim and a pastel blue door. The inside was painted in so many pastel colors it would make a person feel like they were on hallucinogens. Pepto-bismol pink, lemon yellow, powder blue, and lavender purple, as well as crimson red, electric green, and shocking orange. Oliver liked it, but it gave Flavio a headache.

He much preferred the basement, where the main color scheme was grey with the occasional blood splatter here and there.

They carried the unconscious figure down the steps to the basement, occasionally letting him hit his head on the steps with a thud. "Oops, sorry, poppet." Oliver murmured, but Flavio didn't care.

Once in the basement, they tied Alfred to a chair with a combination of duct tape and sturdy rope. "Wake up, Alfie dearest, let me see those beautiful blue eyes of yours." When this failed to elicit a reaction, Oliver looked at Flavio meaningly.

"Smelling salts?"

Flavio pulled a bottle out of his pocket and uncorked it, holding it under Alfred's nose. The man awoke with a start, hitting his head on the back of the chair. "W-what? Where am I?"

"Hello, my sweet, sweet, Alfie." Oliver cooed, cocking his head and smiling at the trapped man. Alfred just scowled. "Where am I?"

"Introductions first!" Oliver made a sweeping bow. "Oliver Kirkland, 'atcher service." "Flavio Vargas, _so_ pleased to meet you." Flavio chuckled grimly. "Alfred F. Jones. No would you mind telling me what the heck I'm doing here?"

"Well, you see, we're what you might call, 'hitmen'. I personally prefer the term 'assassins', but hitmen works as well." Oliver shrugged. "Somebody has a grudge against you, and wants you dead." He giggled manically. Flavio rolled his eyes.

"So, we're here to do our job. Extra money, extra torture." Flavio said, staring at Alfred with a hungry gleam in his eyes. It was an animalistic look, and Alfred didn't like it.

"Mmm, I can't wait to see that hamburger scent you secrete become washed out with the scent of your own plasma." Oliver hissed, his grin growing wider. "I don't smell like hamburgers!" Alfred yelled. "Please. My car will probably smell like fried meat for a month." Flavio snarled, fingering something behind his back.

"Enough of this bull. Let me go." Alfred narrowed his eyes. "Well, aren't you the most _adorable_ little thing!" Flavio cooed, walking up to Alfred and tipping his chin up with a tapered forefinger. "And by that of course I mean _horrible_ and _nasty."_ Alfred gritted his teeth. Oliver joined Flavio, holding an unknown object. Alfred's eyes widened when he saw it was a small, serrated knife.

"Start with his wrists, then move on to the arms and neck." Flavio advised, adjusting his pink sunglasses. Oliver grabbed one of Alfred's arms in response, wiggling it out of the bonds that held it. He gripped it tight, not allowing any room for movement. With small, quick movements, he began to whittle away at Alfred's wrists, allowing small shavings of skin to fall to the floor in a heap. It didn't hurt at first, but as the man grew closer to hitting bone, blood started joining the pile of skin shavings, and the feeling intensified. Alfred screamed, the pain was sharp and came in short bursts with every stroke of the knife. "Please, stop this!" "No can do, poppet, we've been paid in advance. I promised that if he paid extra, I'd make it a good time for us." Oliver's grin was unfaltering as he moved from the man's gutted wrists up to his arms, the knife moving in quick intervals as more and more skin departed from Alfred's body. "Mmm, he smells wonderful now, his blood is rather...nutty." Flavio took a deep breath, letting out a sigh. "I agree, with hints of something rather urban, smokey, you know what I mean?" Oliver made another cut next to Alfred's shoulder, scooping the small droplet of red that oozed out with his fingertip. He licked his finger eagerly, savoring the taste of Alfred's blood with gusto. "I want to taste more of this, Alfie darling." Flavio grinned, bending down next to Oliver to sneak a taste of this delicious treat. "This taste, oh, it's _marvelous._ " Flavio murmured, pulling a knife of his own. "I'll take the other arm."

Normally, if Alfred had one handsome man on each arm, he would have been thrilled. Now, he was horrified.

Oliver moved from the shoulder to his neck, tilting his head to the side to make room for him to work. Alfred gritted his teeth. The scent was getting to him, the stench of blood emanating from his arms and his shoulders and neck, the floor and the walls. It was driving him crazy.

"Let. Me. Go." He hissed, trying to struggle. He let out a yelp of pain when the ropes brushed gently against his wounds, earning a pat on the head from Oliver. "Don't even bother struggling, Alfie darling, you're too far gone."

Flavio made small cuts up Alfred's neck while Oliver talked, eagerly lapping any stray drops of blood that came his way. "I can't even smell hamburgers anymore." He murmured into his ear. "It's wonderful."

"Why don't you just kill me? Get it over with!" Alfred yelled. "No, no, no no no, you don't get to die just yet." Oliver tutted. "That would take all the fun out of it!" "Fun?" "Yes, yes, this is so fun!" Oliver giggled. "I don't understand how this is fun." Alfred rolled his eyes, trying not to wince. "We must not be doing it enough. Maybe if we do it _more,_ he'll understand how fun it is!" Flavio's eyes lit up evilly, and Alfred gulped.

"Who's paying you to do this to me?" "Wouldn't you like to know?" Flavio sneered, stroking the flat side of the blade down Alfred's cheek. "Yes, I would!" "That was supposed to be sarcastic." Flavio's pupils narrowed into slits, and he twisted the blade of the knife into Alfred's cheek, causing another gash to form. "Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I cut off his curl?" Alfred stiffened, grimacing and clenching his jaw. "No, that's an erogenous zone! You don't know what you're doing!"

"Oh, an e-zone? Hmm, we could have a lot of fun with that..." Flavio wetted his lips slightly, causing Oliver to smack him on the back of the head. "Idiot! Do you know what would happen if this idiot gets turned on?" Oliver's cheeks turned slightly pink. "T-that could get dangerous!" The blonde italian chuckled in response. "Of course, _you_ wouldn't want that to happen, virgin potato." This elicited a cough from the strawberry-blonde man. "A-anyway, it's almost sunrise. We need to be able to get rid of the body before Arthur comes to visit." "Ooh, they're coming today, are they?" Flavio let out a little (incredibly fabulous) squeal. "I prepared the acid bath. It's waiting in the next room." "What kind did you use?" "Water and lye."

"Why don't we just do it while he's awake, for once? I want to hear him scream." Flavio whined. Alfred paled. "I don't see anything wrong with that. We'll need to gag him. We can't have the neighbors know." Oliver looked around nervously. "Please. Alfred, Luci, and Viktor are just as okay with this as we are." "Fair point." "That is why you chose this place, is it not? Location, location, location." Flavio chuckled. "Bind his arms and legs."

Flavio unceremoniously grabbed two ropes and bound Alfred's arms and legs together, trussing him up like a turkey. "Hold still now, poppet, wouldn't want to open those wounds any further." Oliver murmured soothingly to him, as if he weren't about to dissolve his body in one of the strongest acids known to man, as he cut through the bonds that tied him to the chair using his bloodstained catering knife. He scooped him up as if he were a child, careful not to touch his wounds. Alfred almost laughed with the irony of it all. He had inflicted those gashes, relishing creating them, and now he was being careful not to dirty his little fingers touching them.

"Get the door for me, would you?" Oliver looked at Flavio imploringly, and the blonde italian strode over to the implied door and unlocked it, revealing a seemingly normal looking bathtub. Apart from it being a rather sickly color, it was filled with colorless liquid that could have been mistaken for water.

"The fumes will get a little strong, but otherwise you'll be _juuuust_ fine." Flavio chuckled. "Thank god for a strong ventilation system."

Oliver gently set Alfred down in the bathtub, careful not to touch the solution himself. Alfred screamed as soon as his arms were submerged in the liquid, for the acid got into them and burned the exposed flesh. Everything hurt, every part of his body that was in contact with the acid burned.

"This process takes about..." Flavio counted on his fingers. "Five hours. Until then, _ciao,_ Alfie darling!" Oliver gave him a little wave before leaving the room. Flavio followed him, giving a playful salute in Alfred's direction. Alfred stared at them with loathing, hating the way the acid burned at his toes and open wounds, slowly eating away at his body and sanity.

The door clicked shut.


End file.
